Fate: Reverse Rebirth
by TheSaxman
Summary: The Holy Grail War: a battle between masters and their familiars, heroic spirits forged in myth and legend alike. Little did Shirou know that dropping his house keys would be the catalyst to bring forth not only King Arthur, but he who reforged all of creation from dying worlds and broken hearts. After all, why settle for one king when you can have two? Pairings undecided.
1. Prologue

Hello peeps and peepettes! I've had the idea to do something like this for ages now, but haven't been able to get it off the ground because of real life. Here's a little excerpt of things to come - trust me, this is going to be one hell of a ride. Let me know what you think; I know this is short, but you should get the idea I'd imagine.

PS if anyone wants to be the guy I bounce ideas off of or thinks you've got a lot to offer, hit me up. I'm pretty busy with a small mountain of IT certification tests, so I'm not opposed in the slightest to some outside assistance. Been a while since I've written something other than 100000+ page-long research papers.

I don't own Fate series or Kingdom Hearts, because otherwise I'd be hella rich and living on a cliff in a crazy high-tech mansion somewhere.

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><p>~<em>in the beginning there was light<em>~

Shirou opened his eyes, realizing he could no longer sense that overwhelming brightness that had manifested not moments before. He didn't know where to go or what he was supposed to do, but one goal rang clearly in his mind; he needed to run. Run as fast as he could, run so that he could live to fight another day.

But the moment Shirou's eyes completely opened, the found his legs unwilling to listen to his frantic efforts to burst into motion. His muscles, tensed from the adrenaline running rampant through his veins, relaxed all at once of their own accord. For the sight before him was one all too wondrous and overwhelming to ignore.

A single form stood before him, facing the shattered doorway with her hands seemingly grasping at thin air.

_She_ turned around and revealed unto the high school student a face nothing short of pure beauty, golden locks trailing along her cheeks and framing her face. Her silvery armor caught the moonlight and created an image nothing short of pure beauty.

"I am Servant Saber," She declared, the Japanese rolling off her tongue with a heavy accent of some English descent. Eyes every bit as beautiful and hard as emerald met Shirou's gaze, showing him a seriousness that seem misplaced in a girl so profoundly breathtaking. "Upon your summoning, I have come forth. I ask of you, are you my master?"

It was all Shirou could do to blink; even something as simple as breathing seemed impossible at that moment. He wedged his tongue out to break the seal between his chapped and bloodied lips, letting his mouth fall open for a moment.

"I-"

"Hey now, who exactly do you think you are pretty lady?" a deep, masculine voice proclaimed from behind the prone redhead. Another bout of panic returned the strength to the boy's limbs, and Shirou quickly and oh-so gracefully flopped forward and whirled about to look at whomever had managed to sneak up on him.

The girl - or Saber, as she claimed her name to be – _moved._ Faster than Shirou could have even comprehended she closed the gap, seemingly appearing out of his air between him and that voice.

"Show yourself!" She declared, hands held before her as if they were wrapped around the hilt of some invisible weapon. A burst of laughter echoed out from behind the numerous crates littering the shed's back wall, trailing off to a weak chuckle of sorts after a few moments.

"You cannot be the servant Saber," the newcomer stated in a matter-of-fact tone as he stepped forth from the shadows. A long black jacket hid most of his figure from view, and the hood pulled over his head concealed most of his face from view. All Shirou could make out were few locks of chocolate brown hair and a boyish jawline that looked as if it could belong to one of his many classmates.

"Who are you to question my role?" she shot back, venom infecting her words.

The brunet raised his head and pulled back the hood, revealing a pair of sapphire eyes that seems to glow with their own luminosity. "Who am I?" He chuckled again, holding his open hand out to the side and flexing his fingers.

In a flash of light, a heavy tool materialized in his waiting palm. He flipped it upward and draped it across his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips as he took in the shocked expressions of the two onlookers.

"You can't tell me what to do lady, you don't have the command seals," he declared, his amused tone of voice replaced by one of naught but complete and utter confidence. "But last I checked, **I** am the heroic spirit he called forth for this little war of his."

He swung the weapon downward and drove its razor-sharp tip into the floorboard. His grip tightened around its hilt as he twisted it about, its silvery blade and golden crossguard flashing in the moonlight. "I'll be the one asking questions here. So - and excuse the lack of originality, by the way - who are **you** to question my role?"

_~and in his hands resides a blade forged of dreams~_


	2. One

BOOM. Told you I had something good in the works. Note that prologue had some edits down to it during the development of this, so take a minute and flip back to see what's new.

As I currently lack a beta, and honestly don't want to wait and keep this from you all, I've posted this with only a minimal about of editing done. I'll be tidying it up over the next couple of days to take out any silly errors I made, though if anybody wants to volunteer to help a brotha out it'd be much appreciated. The ending will probably be flushed out more as well, so I'll be sure to let y'all know when that happends.

I don't own Fate/Stay Night or Kingdom Hearts. Obviously. If I did, I wouldn't be writing this crap and I wouldn't be working two jobs to pay for my rent. And I wouldn't be studying for my network engineer certifications.

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><p><strong>I – The King of Hearts <strong>

**~x~**

It was without a doubt a tense situation, likely the tensest that the boy before him had ever encountered throughout the few experiences dredged up throughout a comparatively meager lifespan.

After all, it wasn't every day a teenager chose to throw himself into conflicts as merciless and savage as the Holy Grail War. It wasn't a contest meant for the weak of heart; it was a competition soaked in the blood of the innocent and guilty alike, akin to massacre wherein only those of strength, cunning, and indomitable force of will could possess even a shred of hope for victory.

He knew what to expect, as did any heroic spirit upon being called forth to the realm of the living.

His master was born into a family of considerable power, trained in the ways of magecraft from the moment he was able to stand on his own two legs. After all, only those with nothing short of absolute confidence in their abilities would dare to enter the Holy Grail War with any hopes of success.

His master undoubtedly possessed an elaborate sigil carved into his flesh, through which the redhead could channel the wisdom and power of a lineage stretching back hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of years. After all, only those in possession of powerful magical skills would dare to enter the Holy Grail War and expect to live to tell the tale.

His master had trained and practiced for years without respite, mastering every arcane secret without his grasp with a fervor no mere mortal could hope to comprehend. After all, only those with unending drive and determination would dare enter the Holy Grail War and believe themselves prepared enough for the bloodbath that would soon ensue.

Yet as he look into this boy's face he saw none of these things. What should have been confidence was instead overwritten with bewilderment tinged with fear and apprehension – his widened eyes darted around the room, pupils enlarged to the point where he could barely make out the mahogany hue of his irises. T

Nothing about this boy matched the hardened killer he'd expected to greet him upon his return to the mortal plain.

And once again, Sora found himself wondering what power-that-be he'd angered for such bad luck to befall him.

"Woah, sorry, that got pretty heavy there. The whole 'being pulled through time and space instantaneously' thing doesn't exactly do wonders for one's mood." The brunette flashed the cheesiest grin he could muster, showing off two rows of pearlescent teeth that seemed to sparkle with a luminescence all their own.

Sora's announcement and entirely unexpected change of tone was met with a painstaking silence. The girl just glared at him with an expression so unbelievably, impossibly icy that could swear he felt his blood slowing down. The boy just sat there, mouth opening and closing as if he was struggling to put the words to his thoughts.

Sora sighed, "Look, you should be able to articulate yourself in front of a pretty girl at your age, spit it out alrea-"

"Who are you? Who are both of you?"

Sora blinked owlishly at the boy's blunt inquiry. His mouth dropped open, leaving him resembling something akin to a fish out of water. The girl merely blinked, slender eyebrows lifting skyward not more than a hair's breadth.

"Um…" He couldn't help but let some of his confusion leak into his response: "Shouldn't you already know that?"

The boy just shook his head wordlessly.

"Right then." Great. The kid summoned his servant without using a focus to determine who he'd end up with. And here Sora had been thinking someone had finally done enough research to dig up something on his accomplishments.

"Well my name is Sora, and I'm the certified badass who will be killing people in your stead for the next week or so."

Now that he had a few moments to get acclimated to his surroundings, things were starting to jump out at him. Like the gaping hole where he assumed a door once stood.

Or the stoic, blonde-haired beauty in an armored dress. Which incidentally was the most impractical comparative clothing he'd ever seen. And he used to wear enough belts to hold up every pair of pants in the ghetto.

Or the fact that the blonde was a servant calling the boy her master, despite Sora's confidence that he was the one who had dibs on that particular right.

Or the red-haired boy, who was looking back and forth between Sora and the blonde with an expression of absolute bewilderment.

"Why would I want you to hurt anyone?" The aforementioned boy braced himself against of the boxes he'd fallen into and pushed himself to his feet.

"Well you can't go winning the Holy Grail War by playing nice and holding hands with everyone." Sora found himself resisting the urge to roll his eyes, instead choosing to be satisfied with the matter-of-fact tone he'd adopted.

"The Holy Grail… War?" The boy muttered with an almost questioning tone. Sora continued on, ignoring the redhead's murmuring.

"Master, I must ask, who is this person?" The blonde spoke with an eerie sort of calmness, the kind that seemed entirely out of place in its current context. Sora looked over at her once more and quirked a singular eyebrow upward.

"Like I said, name's Sora." He jerked a thumb towards his chest. "Savior of Worlds. Champion of the Heart of Hearts. And most recently a Servant. Most likely a Saber, if I had to guess."

"That…" The woman seemed to struggle with her words for a moment. Had they been in different circumstances, Sora could have totally seen her biting her lower lip in frustration as cute. Maybe even adorable, though describing an armor-wearing woman giving off a distinct Xena, Warrior Princess-vibe as 'adorable' felt like an awkward choice of words. "That cannot be right."

"What, because you're the Saber?" Sora scoffed as he recalled her earlier monologue. "Sorry, but no dice. Run along back to your master little girl, and tell him that you can't sneak anything this stupid past me."

"Excuse me?" The girl's eyes hardened as she took a step towards him, reaching out as if to place herself between Sora and the teenager.

"You're excused!" came his cheerful reply. "Now enough about us, where's the guy who was trying to turn you into a fleshy, pink cocktail olive, Master?"

"What?"

Sora groaned at the boy's replay, rubbing the bridge of his nose with gloved fingertips. "You really aren't the quickest in a crisis scenario, are you?" He paused, noting an sudden feeling of emptiness in the room. "Also, where did the girl go?"

She had been standing in front of the boy not three freaking seconds ago. Then she just… vanished. All he did was blink, and suddenly there was a distinct lack of blue and silver between Sora and his master.

The sounds of clashing steels and battle cries from outside provided the answer to that particular riddle.

"Okay, you stay here and keep being beautiful," Sora started towards the exit, tussling the redhead's hair as he passed him. "I'll go do damage control. Nobody shanks my master but me."

Sora frowned at the boy's stricken expression. "Not that I would actually do that. You need to work on your sense of humor.

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><p><em>Sora, the self-proclaimed King of Hearts, master of all Keyblades past and future, savior of all creation, Bane of darkness and all its acolytes<em>_. _A voice in the back of his head rang, a voice that was eerily similar to his own, and undeniably amused for reasons known only to it.

_A being of irrefutable power, so stubborn and defiant that he could even reject death itself when everything was on the line._ Sora flipped the sword over his shoulder and frowned as the two warriors clashed before him, the sheer force of the impact kicking up a light breeze. _ And this is how you spend your first moments back in reality? Taunting a scared little kid, and watching someone else fight your battles for you?_

"Why Roxas, if I didn't know about better I'd say you were implying something," Sora forced the blandest tone possible onto his words. He already knew what his nobody was going to say – after all, they'd been stuck together for so long that the blonde might as well have been part of his mind. Although now that he was thinking about it, in a way Roxas WAS a part of his mind. Just a part that suffered from frequent moods swings and an eternally rebellious attitude.

Still, Sora chose to play innocent and let Roxas have his moment.

_If I didn't know any better, I'd say lounging around that throne has made you soft, _Roxas told him with a bark of laughter. Sora just shrugged in response, watching the blue-suited man flip about the yard in a manner not unlike some of the superhero shows he'd watched as a kid.

"So my corners are a little rounder than they used to be. At least the beer belly isn't showing." Another bark of laughter rang through his mind like the echoing of a dozen chimes. Manly chimes.

_And you wonder why the blonde over there didn't believe you're the kid's servant._

The jibe was met with yet another roll of his eyes.

"Please, you just have a thing for blondes. You'd be taking her side even if she was poking holes in my liver with her sword…" His voice trailed off as he observed the titanic clash taking place before him. "Actually, I guess that's not a sword. Or maybe it is?"

_Beats me. I stopped trying to understand magical weapons after you and Cid made that one gunblade__. _Sora frowned, rummaging through dust-covered memories of the hours he'd spent with the man in his later years._You know which one I'm talking about_

"No I don't…." Sora found himself smiling at the particular reference his nobody was making. "Oh come on, that was awesome and you know it."

_Why couldn't you just make it shoot bullets? At least that would have been practical!_

"It was plenty practical! It could hold more bullets that way." Sora frowned and crossed his arms. The two had the same disagreement all those years back – at least then he had Cid to back him up. Now it was just him and the nobody, all alone in his mind. No rugged, foul-mouthed mechanic to act as the tie breaker.

_There will never been a time nor place in all the universe where a gunblade that literally shoots guns at people will be useful._

"You just think that because you have no imagination. That thing was great, the patent made us millions."

_No, you LOST millions, remember? _

"You're just biased is all, we need a fresh mind to be the judge." Sora brightened up and waved his hands in the girl's direction. "Hey! Wannabe Saber lady! What do you think of a sword that shoots guns that can shoot bullets? It's sounds awesome, right?"

"Now is-" Saber's invisible weapon collided with a crimson spear, forcing her to grunt in exertion as she pushed forward and launched her foe backwards through the air. "-not the time for casual exchanges!"

_Told you._

'Shut it, blondie.' Sora briefly rolled his eyes at the Nobody's smugness before turning his attention outward to the situation at hand. Though he couldn't help but wonder if adding the chainsaw bullets to the guns would have upped the appeal a bit.

"Again, you don't have my command seals." Sora paused thoughtfully, and turned about to call toward the star-struck high schooler, who was still rooted in place at the shed's doorway. "By the way, if you try to use any of my seals to shut me up, I'll personally make sure the doors and windows to every bathroom you ever try to use during this war are locked shut."

Shirou just shot Sora an even more incredulous look – something that was just downright impressive, considering how overwhelmed the high school student already looked. "Wait, command what?"

But by the time the redhead had managed to articulate that short phrase, Sora was already gone. Regardless of how annoying the nobody could be, Roxas had a point. He hadn't lifted a keyblade, or any weapon for that matter, in countless years. While he was pretty sure servants were supposed to be summoned at the peak of their ability, he wasn't entirely sure. And the best way to test that theory was standing right in front of him, in the form of a spear-wielding menace.

And while the blade that had appeared in his hand wasn't a keyblade, that wasn't going to stop Sora from doing what he did best; kicking ass, and chopping off the bad guy's limbs.

He leapt forward and delivered an airborne slash into the cloud of dust and debris kicked up by the Lancer's impact, only to find his weapon passing through thin air. He blinked owlishly as the balls of his feet hit the ground and brought his momentum to an entirely unexpected halt.

That… was not supposed to happen. When he tried to hit something, either one of two things happened. The first – and far more likely – involved his weapon chopping up his target into bite-size pieces in the blink of an eye. Not that he was usually aiming for bite size pieces, it's just that things tended not to bounce back from being diced like a sweet potato.

Cannibalism was gross. Last time he'd come across that, Jack was playing pretend and Will had been moments away from turning into a glorified cut of New York Strip.

In the few cases where he couldn't finish off victims in a single blow, Sora usually ended up using a follow-up blow a split second after the fact that finished the job. Granted, he almost always assumed that the first strike would never miss, so it wasn't too often he had to use a second blow. It could be blocked on occasion, but it never outright missed the target.

But in the moment had just passed, neither of those two blows had come to fruition.

He'd missed his first swing – not exactly unexpected, considering his foe was presumably a heroic spirit. But curiously – and perhaps disturbingly – Sora hadn't the chance to unleash a second swing to correct his miscalculation.

And it wasn't that the opportunity hadn't arisen – there was always an opportunity, even if it wasn't an ideal opening. It was that Sora wasn't able to take advantage of it due to the sheer speed at which his foe had backed away from him.

The moment his weapon had finished traveling the arc of his first blow, the blue-clad warrior had just vanished into thin air. One moment he'd been standing there, crimson eyes ablaze with intrigue, and the next he just… wasn't.

Which should have been impossible.

Behind him, Sora could already hear and feel the impacts from the dueling blonde and… whatever one calls a blue-haired girly-man. If he wasn't so baffled by that turn of events, he would have been downright offended. Granted, if he was in the Lancer's shoes he'd have gone for the pretty one first to at least enjoy the view.

Sora was intimately aware of the extent of his skills and abilities, and knew that at the very least he should have been able to land a glancing hit on the spearman at such close range. It was a skill honed over decades and centuries of practice, so deeply ingrained in his style that such reflexes were borderline instinctual.

That left the brunet with one question; what sort of monster was he facing?

And what sort of monster was that girl if she was able to keep up with their shared adversary?

"What's the matter Lancer? If you stand there, you'll give spearmen a bad name. If you will not come to me, I shall come to you." The girl smirked at the annoyed twitch suddenly plaguing Lancer's leftmost eye. Still he managed to keep his composition, speaking with a level, purposeful tone.

"Before you do, let me ask you one thing. Your noble phantasm…" He paused, the moonlight reflecting from his eyes as if it were a triumphant gleam, "Is it a sword?"

"Who can say?" Saber smirked, glancing at the wind-encircled tool clenched in her armored hand. "It may be a battle axe. Or perhaps a polearm. Or it might even be a bow, Lancer."

"Oooh, oooh, the guessing game! I bet it's a scythe!"

Saber and Lancer both paused mid-banter, their weapons loosening ever so slightly in their hands – and simultaneously turned to level a singular, incredulous look in Sora's direction.

"What?" The black-clad swordsman barked out defensively. "Scythes can be practical sometimes. I knew a guy who used one." He frowned. "Well, I used to know one. Don't really remember much about him other than the fabulous hairdo. Goddamn Namine." Sora added that last part under his breath, just for his sake. And for that of his other half.

_Shut your goddamn whore mouth, you spiky-haired son of a-_

Speaking of his other half… Sora turned a glare inward at the presence raging within the confines of his mind. 'Oh come on, you know she screwed me over until the very end.'

_She was literally perfect, end of story._ The nobody's word were slow, each syllable heavy with purpose and emotion. Some might have backed down at this point, knowing they'd happened upon a rather sensitive topic.

Sora, however, was not that type of person.

'_Whatever bro. You know she wanted me. What with the whole 'replacing Kairi with herself' in my mind shtick that went down.' _He paused, considering the wisdom of his next words._'So I guess, in a way, she –literally- wanted to screw-'_

There was silence. And then -

_OH I AM GONNA RIP OUT YOUR FUCKING THROAT YOU- _Sora rolled his eyes and concentrated, pushing the nobody's presence to the back of his mind where his ranting was much simpler to ignore. He'd probably end up paying for it later… but hey, he'd take a victory where he could get one.

"Is now really the time for such irrelevant asides?" Saber half-muttered, her musings barely audible even amidst the dead silence permeating the night air. Still, it was enough to bring the man back to reality.

"Hey, any time is story time if you try hard enough." Sora shrugged and turns his open palms upward.

"I see we have a joker amidst us tonight, Saber" Lancer grumbled, "While you are still a stranger to me, this too shall be where you fall" The blue haired man took a step backwards and spread his grip along the shaft of his weapon as far as his arms would reach.

"With you joining our ranks, all the servants have been summoned," Lancer continued as wisps of red light began to swirl around his polearm, his piercing gaze locked on the blonde. "And after tonight, my master will have one six servants with which to concern himself."

Sora raised his hand. "I really don't know why you're telling her all of this."

Lancer paused, casting a cursory glance. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"You said she was the seventh." The black-clad warrior shrugged, "but see, that implies she's the servant that boy brought forth into this world."

"There's no question that I am my master's servant," the woman's words were short and taut, just bordering on blatantly hostile. Undoubtedly she was less than pleased about Sora forcing himself into their duel; then again, Sora didn't particularly care.

"I'm questioning it," Sora shot back almost instantaneously.

"What, are you saying there's another servant in our midst tonight?" Sora shrugged and pointed at himself. "Who, you?"

"No, just one of my multiple personalities." He paused, his curiosity getting the best of him. "Actually hang on, let me check."

Sora turned his gaze inward, rooting around for the little ball of light that was his nobody. He'd been surprisingly quiet since the whole Namine thing. Normally he'd rage for hours on end, then just give up and sulk for the next couple days. 'Hey buddy, have you calmed down yet at –'

_I swear, next time you let me out I'm taking our left nut just to spite you! I'll saw it off with a goddamn rusty bread knife, and then I'll -_

Images started appearing in Sora's mind, the kind he would never had thought up on his own. Horrifyingly gruesome scenes involving all the things Roxas had mentioned, plus a few more that threatened to disrupt the state of his stomach

Seriously, how the hell had the nobody thought up using lawn clippings and basketballs like _that?_

"Okay, nevermind, other me is under the weather right now. Chronic bitchfit syndrome. Don't worry, it isn't contagious." Sora actually winced when Roxas hurled himself against the barriers he'd placed up in his mind to contain the nobody's unbridled fury. He hadn't ticked off the blonde this badly in years; almost subconsciously, Sora realized he was out of practice if it took him this long to reduce the nobody to a frothing-at-the-mouth kind of rage.

"I know not how you came to be here, but I know that you cannot be a servant. Perhaps you are a familiar belonging to this Saber, or perhaps you were simply at the wrong place at the wrong time, it matters not." Lancer took a step towards Sora, "You too shall join her and her master in-"

"Is it already marching band season?" Sora pondered aloud, deliberately cutting the blue-clad warriors little monologue. "I didn't realize they were holding color guard practice already. I think you forgot the flag." Visibly taken aback, the ethereal light faded away from Lancer's spear as he leveled an absolutely murderous glare in Sora's direction.

"A color-what?" A confused, distinctly-teenaged voice rang out.

Later, Sora would find himself retrospectively wondering why his master chose to react to that particular statement, out of all the fantastical things he was seeing and listening to at that point. He'd also find himself wondering if marching bands were even a thing in Japan.

Seriously, with how little space they had, and the lack of good ol' American football, it wouldn't have surprised him too much.

Lancer ignored the brunet's taunting and instead turned to Saber, the crimson glow once again returning to this spear. "Swordswoman! Since this is our first meeting, would you be interested in calling this a draw?" The veins around his eyes seemed to bubble and bulge in anticipation of her answer.

Well, either that or Sora's brain was addled from being dragged through time and space and stuffed into a fake body made by a giant, glorified cup. Maybe it was a bit of both, really. Still, people's eyes weren't supposed to do that last he checked.

Then again, servants weren't exactly 'people' themselves.

"Yo, I'm still right here! Don't you ignore me! I ignore YOU!"

Saber took a step forward, shoving Sora backwards with a free hand and ignoring his injured pride at being manhandled so freely. "I think not Lancer. This is where you shall fall tonight."

"In that case…" Lancer trailed off, the momentary pause in conversation abruptly broken by an explosion of crimson light engulfing his spear and the veins around his eyes bulging out as if they were about to explode. "I'll have your heart!"

And with that declaration Lancer took a step forward, his body twisted to the side and his glowing weapon hefted over his shoulder. Before Shirou even realized what was happening, the weapon had already left its masters hand and was moving… no, _flying_ towards the blonde and her brunette companion.

"I'm the only one who gets a claim on anyone's heart!" Sora's voice rang out above the projectile's unholy screeching, his arm splayed forward as if to stop it with naught but gloved, calloused hands. The weapon continued to soar through the air like some sort of brain-damaged pigeon, leaping all about and rapidly and, rather erratically, approaching its target.

If the situation weren't so dire, Sora would have made some comment about Lancer's shitty aim and needing to use what he assumed to be the handheld equivalent of a homing missile to hit his mark.

But there wasn't any time. He and this 'Saber' had maybe half a moment before that spear reached them, and god knows what would happen when it did. Sora wasn't about to risk his neck for a half-assed one-liner.

"Get out of the way!" Sora took a step forward, shoving Saber to the side as she had done to him just moments before. He reached deep within him, to the very depths of his magical core, as far as he could reach in his current state – and pulled out everything he could with a roar:

"TURN BACK!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Saber watched the brunet throw his hands up as a pulse of white light exploded outward from his open palms. Then her eyes widened as that light swirled forward as if it were some sort of gas, materializing into panel of solid luminescence in front of her and her supposed ally. It flickered as if it were the top of a pond on a midsummer's day, casting a rainbow hue of colors in every direction.

Not a moment after the interlocking hexagonal tiles materialized, Lancer's spear collided with it with enough force to carve through space and time itself.

In her astonishment, Saber failed to notice Sora's grunts and curses of exertion. His fingers shook violently as he expelled even more magic in an attempt to reinforce his spell. The wall flashed and screamed under the stress of the foe's weapon, cracks spreading through its near-translucent form like so many tiny spider webs.

Sora's barriers were potent; once, they had held back forces that could have torn Kingdom Hearts asunder, albeit for only a short time. A barrier that none had managed to break through in all his years – and it wasn't enough to stop this Noble Phantasm.

No, that wasn't right. It wasn't the spell – it was him. Something was missing. No matter how much magic he poured out, no matter had deep he delved into depths of his heart, there just wasn't enough to get the job done.

And so the barrier he had just conjured was not one that could stop the supernova of a dying sun. Even so, a barrier forged of his own power should have been more than enough to stop a Noble Phantasm.

But in that splint instant he realized something felt inherently wrong about this body. His magic didn't feel like a solid which he could precisely weigh out and carve into whatever form he so desired. It was more like a liquid. Fluid, hard to control, impossible to precisely measure without spilling over the rim of his glass or only filling it up part-way.

The magic flowing from his fingertips was no steady stream, but more akin to a haphazard series of droplets falling from a leaky faucet. Some big, some small, but even if they were all drawn together into a bucket they would not be enough for the task at hand.

And it would cost Sora his life.

No, it was cost him _Her_ life.

All it took was a mere two seconds for the spear to shatter the barrier, but in the eyes of a servant, that might as well have been an hour or even a day's time. With grace only a woman of her beauty could possess she turned to the side, watching the spear pass harmlessly by her as though it were merely a passing breeze. Sora felt a sigh of relief escape from between his tightly clenched teeth-

Saber stopped moving.

Sora stopped breathing.

She looked downed, staring at the bloodied pike as it sundered her armor and dug into her shoulder. A spear she knew she had just avoided, a spear which there could be no more than one of in the entire world. And she could do nothing but watch as it tore through her collarbone and blasted open a hole in her back.

She stumbled backward, digging her invisible blade into the earth as a crutch in an attempt to stay upright. Her attempt would have surely failed, were it not for Sora's arm reaching out and slinking underneath her arms as she began to slip backwards.

Lancer skidded to a halt and leveled an absolutely feral glare towards the two. "So," a tongue the same color of his spear snaked its way from oved his arm as the girl regained her balance. "A curse?" She mused, looking at the blackness covering her wound and the red sparks that leapt from its depths. "No, a strike that always strikes true. One that can reverse time and space itself to hit its mark."his mouth and caressed his lips, "you managed to dodge my fatal strike after all."

Sora's eyes widened in realization. "So that's how you broke through my barrier." Lancer just chuckled, twirling his spear about and draping it across his shoulder.

_Well fuck me. _

For the first time in a while, Sora felt inclined to agree with his mental roommate's assessment.

"Also how the hell did you figure that out so quickly? Like, do people go messing with the time-space continuum around you often or something?" Sora shot at the bloodied girl, his brow drawn tight in confusion. If it had been up to him, he would have just said 'oh hey, that's spear's magic, okay cool' and been done with it. He'd never been one for in-depth analysis of his opponent's in the midst of battle.

"That barrier was just weak, plain and simple." Sora felt his free hand clench into a fist of its own accord at the Lancer's decree, his knuckles popping one by one at the tightness of his grip. If it weren't for the bloodied woman struggling to maintain her footing, he'd have launched himself at the blue-clad spearman without a second thought. "Still, I am impressed. Just a mere human yet you managed to call forth a shield that could block a normal blow from my spear with no formal incantation."

Sora shrugged, stepping in front of the blonde with his weapon pointed straight at the foe. "What can I say, I've had an awful lot of practice. Also, not human. Servant, yo."

The man grinned and let out a bark of laughter. "I can see now that your earlier claim was merely a bluff. That was the kind of barrier even a novice mage could through up on a whim."

Nobody noticed the raincloud forming overtop Shirou's head at that statement.

"Yeah, me servant. You servant. She servant, at least I'm starting to believe that last one. We're all servants. I didn't realize I was teaching kindergarten again." Sora frowned. "Not that I ever did, wasn't cut out for it. Too many diapers."

Lancer just continued to chuckle. "You're an amusing one, human. Claiming to be a servant and trying to face me down, even with Saber injured as she is so she can't protect you. Maybe there's some fun still to be had tonight after all."

"You've got a messed up definition of fun if your idea of it is stabbing pretty girls, buddy," the brunet retorted, taking his free hand and wrapping it around his weapon. "I'm not so much into it, myself. In fact, you could say it downright pisses me off something terrible."

"Also, again, I'm no mere human." If Sora had been a particularly skilled in strategy, he might have realized at that moment that revealing his identity would be a less-than-wise choice. Of course, he had always been much more suited to the hard-headed approach; screw tactics, just hit harder than they do and make sure they fall first.

"Oh? What does that mean?"

"It means that I'm that boy's real servant." Sora rolled his eyes, wondering how many times he'd have to repeat that particular fact this even. "Well, I think. It's no very clear yet, but I'm just going to assume blondie here was brought along to be my personal maid or something."

_You wish._

Sora audibly groaned. 'Shut it, I'm in the middle of mid-fight banter here. It's the most important kind of banter.'

_Fair enough. Jackass._

Yup, he was still bitter.

"Two servants?" Lancer's eyes looked the black-clad warrior up and down a few times, now with only half-hearted chuckles escaping from under his breath. "You jest. I felt your sword earlier – it's weak. And with her," he jerked a thumb towards the bloodied girl, "all seven have come forth. There's no place for your deception now."

"Well if three's a crowd," Sora shrugged, "I guess we better trim down our numbers a few."

Without any warning, Sora's fingers were closed tight around the back of Saber's collar. Her mouth was already open, voicing her outrage as he hefted her up into the air; not unlike a mommy dog hefting her pup into the air by the scruff of its neck.

With a cry of "Catch, kid!" Sora hurled her through the air straight at the redheaded teenager. He whirled about to face his foe, flipping his blade over his shoulder and only vaguely acknowledging the subsequent crashing noise and cries of protest.

If they were making noice, they were still alive. Which meant he hadn't broken the kids neck by hurling the girl into him with enough force to have sent her crashing through a wall.

For a teenager, he was surprisingly tough.

Sora and Lancer's eyes met once more. Sapphire glinted with determination, and ruby flashed with some sort of cross between amusement and reluctant curiosity. Even if he wouldn't say it aloud, Sora could see the man's thoughts as clear as day. The man's heart was an open book before him, the King of Hearts.

Lancer wanted to find out for himself if Sora could back of his boastful, outlandish claims.

Sora was more than happy to oblige.

And with that Sora charged toward once again, lashing out with a blow meant to bifurcate his foe in one clean swipe. And once again, he found his blade passing through naught but thin air, the target of his ire mere inches away from the tip of his blade.

When two masters of combat clash, the resulting scene could only be described as a work of art. Their movements were rhythmic and perfectly in sync, an ebb and flow resulting from decades of combined experience and skill. One would advance and the other would retreat, only for their rolls to reverse in the blink of an eye. To those unused to watching such exchanges their movements would appear and nothing more than a chaotic blur of impossibly quick motions, broken up only by the sparks cast by clashing steel.

But this fight was nothing like that.

Every blow that Sora rained down upon his foe should have at least been fatal – sundering organs, severing limbs, even straight-up decapitation were his goals. They came from every angle – up down, left, straight on, and even diagonally.

They were the kind of strikes that could have smashed concrete into mere fragments, and sliced through a steel girder with the precision of an industrial laser. When he called about all his strength, Sora doubted even the barrier conjured by a certain court wizard could have withstood his might without fracturing under the pressure.

Another clash of steel, followed by Sora's growl of rapidly escalating frustration.

So why was it even now, after he'd time to warm up, he couldn't land so much as a scratch on his opponent Even if his foe's armament was a Noble Phantasm, he should have at least been able to take out a chip or two.

A step forward, in conjunction with a thrusting motion aiming to drive the tip of his blade between Lancer's ribs.

Nothing.

A sideways juke, quickly followed by a twirling sweep of his weapon that would remove the arm of a lesser man like a drumstick from a turkey.

Nothing.

A leap that carried Sora towards his foe, twirling about with his blade extended as if he were some sort of airborne buzzsaw.

Nothing.

A spinning blow, his blade flipping over his shoulder as he pivoted his waist and unleashed a downward slash that had blitzed so many beings out of existence.

Nothing.

As yet another horizontal swing from his blade missed its mark, a barely-repressed roar of rage trickled out from the back of Sora's throat as a pained grunt. He took a step forward, lifting his blade over his shoulder with both hands wrapped so tightly around its hilt that the flesh covering his fingers were almost as white as the bones they concealed. With a roar he brought the blade downward, twisting his entire body and throwing all the weight and force his screaming muscles could conjure up into a singular blow.

His blade clashed against nothing but _god damned air._

Instead, the brunet found himself shuffled backwards almost immediately to remove himself from the reach of the Lancer's spear tip, which was suddenly occupying the same space his heart had not moments ago.

The wheels in Sora's head started to chug as he watched that damned spear approach his face like a bullet train flying off the tracks. He couldn't raise his blade in time, and there was no way in hell his reflect magic would be able to manifest quickly enough. That thing would run through his skull like a toothpick through a pig in the blanket.

So instead, he found himself ignoring his choice in food-based analogy and turning to a time-honored tactic favored by the desperate and underhanded: pure, unadulterated shock value.

"What the hell are you wearing?"

Lancer's weapon, no more than a hair's breadth from Sora's nose, froze in place. "Excuse me?"

"No seriously, what is that thing?" Sora's took a step forward safely out of reach, stroking his chin musingly. "I didn't know zentai was back in style. Are you going to an orgy later to something?"

"What does it matter what clothing I've donned?" Lancer snapped. This stranger, who looked no older than the boy he had run through not mere hours ago, was talking to him as if he were a parent talking to his child. As if he was trying to demean him!

"Master, now would be a good time to remove yourself from the battle while Lancer is distracted," Sora picked up Saber's whispering behind him and whirled about, turning his back to the baffled Lancer.

"I'm asking a damn question that my master is undoubtedly interested in, lady!" Sora snapped whilst deftly ducking downward to avoid a spear head swinging in the general direction of his throat. "I mean come on, he's at that age where girls start to smell pretty to him. If you really think you're his Saber you should let me figure this out! He'd appreciate it!"

"What?!" This time a somewhat more masculine and raspy cried out.

"Not now master, I'm getting the details for you, just be patient!" Sora found himself backing up in another series of jukes to avoid a rapid flurry of thrusts culminating in an undeniably impressive feint.

"Now, is she invited?" Sora jerked a thumb words Saber, ignoring the shocked gap and overwhelming murderous presence the gesture brought forth. "Because if so I'm totally in. Is there a down payment? Background check? Medical examination?"

"You, you- !" A distinctly feminine, unbelievably aggravated voice rang out from where an injured blonde currently sat. Seriously, she'd just been in a fight with another heroic spirit, and now she chose to let her little temper show? "Master, quick come to me while Lancer is preoccupied."

"O-okay!"

Sora suddenly felt a fear for his life as he realized the girl's patience was unraveling like a cheap tapestry straight out of a Chinese sweatshop. He found himself reevaluating the wisdom of pointing out the teenage boy's wet dream of having a girl call him master, and opted for the path that would end without an enraged swordswoman trying to take off his scalp. And then proceeded to ignore said decision in favor of furthering sewing frustration and chaos amidst this tiny battlefield.

"Hey take it as a compliment, not sexual harassment."

A pause.

"Stop it with your idiotic prattling and DIE!" Lancer roared, leaping forward and jamming his spear downward, only to find his weapon sinking into the rocky soil where his foe had stood not moments ago."

"Been there, done that, it was boring as hell." Sora's voice drifted over from Lancer's left, who promptly wrenched his weapon form the ground and swung at its source. A single step backwards prevented Sora from losing so much as a single hair on his head. "Well not literally. Hell wasn't a thing back then."

_Well if it is a thing now, you've sure as hell going there._

Roxas was, as always, such a helpful little voice-in-his-head to have around.

Basic tactics 101: when facing an opponent who's faster stronger, and better armed than you, you do whatever you can to get the upper hand. In the past, Sora would have just spat a Beacon of Sealing from his keyblade through the guy's chest, locked his heart away, and been done with it. Sometimes he'd even resort to freezing his opponents to the ground before unleashing the full wrath of the elements upon his hapless victim.

But considering his apparent lack of keyblades at the moment, he had only one option.

Piss off his opponent enough so that he gave into his temper. An angry fighter could be the most dangerous thing of the battlefield, to both his enemies and himself. They could be stronger and more ruthless, sure. But fighting while enraged also made you reckless and careless; that's what Sora was counting on.

Unbeknownst to him, a certain sword-wielding blonde had begun to take note of the deeper purpose behind his actions.

"Well that was just uncalled for," Sora's silver blade crashed downward into Lancer's pole arm, the scraping metal casting a shower of sparks into the night air. His arms trembled and screamed in protest to the force he was applying

Lancer took an involuntary step back, his face twisting into a scowl of pre disgust. He opened his mouth as if to lash back at Sora's taunting, but stopped just as the words were about to take form. Instead, he allowed his shoulders to relax and a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. "Do you really think you can goad me into carelessly attacking with such crass words?"

Sora tilted his head to the side and dug around in his ear with an extended pinky. "I'm sorry, could you say that again? I think I missed something there, all I head was something about a goat's ass...?"

Lancer's face blanked, eyes glazed over and seemingly staring straight through Sora. "I think that taking your life will bring me almost as much pleasure as winning the grail, mortal."

"What the hell is going on?" Shirou's voice rang out from a location much close to the house than it had been previously.

"Your loyal servant is trying to shish kebab this guy with his own spear for you," Sora deadpanned, turning to give the boy a look that practically screamed 'what the hell does it look like I'm doing?'

"You are not my master's servant! I am whom he has summoned to fight for the Grail!" The blonde snapped back, a gauntlet-covered hand covering her bloodied shoulder. Sora seriously couldn't comprehend how she wasn't understanding who exactly was in charge at the moment. Seriously, of the two of them, which one had been run through with a magical glow stick within the first five minutes? It sure as hell wasn't him; he'd think that, if anything, would give him some level of authority.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you over the sound of how wrong you are!"

Speaking of which, Sora also couldn't understand why she kept going on about who summoned who with a gaping hole in her shoulder. Someone's priorities were out of whack.

He also took note of the scream of seemingly uncharacteristic rage she let loose. Somehow he had the feeling that he might have to pay for that later, depending on how this whole mess worked out.

"Anyway last I checked I'm the one risking my neck for his sorry teenage butt right now- literally, I might add." Whirling about Sora took to the offensive, dashing forward whilst unleashing a rain of blows from every angle possible. Lancer just back stepped and deftly swatted aside each blow, eventually cutting his assault short by swatting away the blade with his spear.

Sora grunted and panted, taking a deep breath and shifting back into a defensive stance. Something was wrong. Even when he was younger he should have been able to keep up an assault like that for a solid ten minutes before needing to catch his breath. That had lasted no longer than thirty seconds, maybe a minute at most.

He felt… wrong. Like he was fourteen again, sparkly new keyblade fresh in hand and facing off against his very first giant ass Heartless. The one with the tentacle monster hair. By the time he'd breathed his last, such battles were barely enough to qualify as warm-up exercises. After all, Sora had fought literal armies of heartless with no pause when he was only sixteen. He hadn't kicked the bucket until his late forties.

Leon always said he had nothing short of an exponential learning curve.

But all his past experience did nothing to help him answer the question as hand; why was he having so much trouble against a freak in a jumpsuit?

Seriously, Xaldin had done more impressive stuff with his spears. Or were they halberds? He never could remember the difference; they both had sharp metal things on the ends of long, pointy sticks. All he remembered was that the nobody had loved throwing those damn things around like firecrackers on Chinese New Year's.

Oh, and the whole 'here's a dragon made of pointy metal things.'

He'd always wanted to learn how to replicate that particular party trick. Maybe now that he was around again, he'd a chance to give it a shot.

_I just called them the cocktail skewers of death_, Roxas added helpfully. Had he not been fighting for his life and losing, Sora might have been more inclined to chuckle at this other half's riff.

'Cocktail skewers, toothpicks, in the end they're all pretty lame compared to a good old fashioned sword.'

Sora pointed at Lancer and scowled, dispelling his curiosities. "At least one of those attacks should have cleaved through your face like a hot knife through… well, a pretty boy's face. The hell are you made of? Quicksand?"

A moment of dead silence. "Oh come on, those are the easiest kind of face to chop into bite-sized pieces. Nice and soft. Butter knives are actually better for the job, but I don't carry those around with me."

The silence continued, broken only by the sound of creaking boards from the small staircase leading into the house. "Or was it the quicksand thing? You know, because he's fast? Quicksand. Quick?" Sora let loose a deep sigh. "Really? Nothing?"

_I would sell your soul if it meant you stopped breathing this very instant._

"A better question would be, 'how are you so slow?'" Lancer seemingly disappeared into thin air as Sora delivered a heavy swing where he had just been, the momentum causing him to stumble forward and lose his footing.

"Actually sand is hard as hell to cut up," Sora mused to himself, completely ignoring Lancer's comments. "I should have gone with faeries. They're pretty hard to hit too."

"I don't know exactly what you are," Sora's eyes widened as Lancer's voice rang out behind him, instantaneously derailing the Keyblade Master's train of thought. "But in any case you're proven you're at least capable of dodging my blows. Just not this one"

A bark of laughter burst forth from between Sora's tightly clenched teeth, his mouth already open to deliver yet another witticism as he whirled himself about-

And once more, Sora found himself cut off. Only this time it wasn't by his foe, or even the blonde-haired beauty bleeding out somewhere behind him. It was from his other half.

_SORA, MOVE! NOW!_

And like that, Sora found himself skewered in place. Searing pain erupted in his side as that damned blood-drenched spear carved through muscles and kidney alike, tearing through his back and bursting through his stomach in the blink of an eye.

"This is… well crap. Ow," the black-clad warrior grunted out, articulate as always. Had he not been distracted by the undeniably painful wound, he might have sadly noted this was the first time since his summoning he was at a loss for a clever quip.

It was only the sudden shock of the experience that kept Sora from crying out as Lancer tore the spear free of his abdomen in one swift motion. Ruby met sapphire as Lancer locked eyes with his adversary once more, a single eyebrow raised and the corner of his mouth tucked downward as if in disappointment.

"Perhaps you are in truth a heroic spirit."

Sora stumbled forward and help back a pain-riddled gasp. His free hand clamped overtop his latest piercing in a feeble attempt to hold back the crimson liquid seeping from between calloused fingers. The wound was serious, he would never deny it. But he'd grown used to such injuries. It fact, he'd been injured like this so many times that all it normally took was a few seconds before his body was subconsciously draw upon his magic to heal him with the all-too familiar green luminescence of Cure magic.

But that wasn't happening this time. No magical green glow spilling out from his insides as his flesh stitched itself together, no comforting warmth filling every inch of his body with a feeling once could only begin to describe as tranquility.

All he felt was the cold night air against his flesh, and the sticky warmth soaking through his glove and spilling out from between his fingers in steaming rivulets.

In the back of his mind, Sora found himself wondering why the opposing servant had just now decided to entertain the possibility he was in fact a servant.

Though at the moment, he felt like the world's shittiest servant.

Also, he just felt like shit in general.

"Still," Lancer continued, unaware of the inner struggle plaguing Sora's psyche, "Even if you were a heroic spirit, your abilities are… lacking, to say the least." A cold laugh.

'Were' a heroic spirit. Past tense.' If he wasn't so preoccupied with staying upright, Sora would have laughed. Or maybe even felt a little bit insulted. 'Does this idiot really think he's already won?'

"My master will undoubtedly wonder how an eighth servant managed to worm his way into this little skirmish." Lancer shrugged, stepping forward and closing the gap between the two. "A pity it's a mystery that you won't live to answer."

"If anything," A violent cough, crimson life blood splashing against his hand, "she's the eighth. I'm too badass to be some sort of accident." Sora scoffed and pointed a shaky finger at the blonde; at least, where the blonde had stood not moments before. He could only assume she'd taken his master inside, away from the conflict at hand.

Whatever, it wasn't a big deal. He could take this idiot on by himself, even with the gaping wound in his gut.

He'd had worse after all.

"Unlikely," Lancer snorted. "You're slower and weaker than her. I barely had to try and deflect your strikes – your technique is decent, at least by mortal standards, but that's the only remotely exceptional thing about you."

Sora shrugged, his blade disappearing into a shower of white sparks and his free hand pressed against his newest piercing. "Believe what you want, buddy. I just need a bit to warm up.'

Sparking of warm, an idea crashed into his mind with all the subtlety of an out-of-control freight train blasting dubstep.

"But in the meantime, let's try and warm you up a bit too." The bloodier of the two straightened up, curling the hand not currently responsible for keeping his insides on the inside into a taught fist.

Back in ye olden days, Sora had been known for two things. The first was his looks, because he was god damn gorgeous. Baby blue eyes, perfectly messy and sun-kissed brown hair, and a body the gods would kill for.

Well, that last part wasn't entirely true. After all, Aphrodite definitely had different ideas in mind when she'd approached him…

His second claim to fame was his martial skill. Tales circulated throughout the universe of his many feats – slicing through entire cities with a single blade in hand, fighting Sephiroth to a draw before he cold even legally drink, hell, reducing entire armies to nothing but severed limbs and scattered shadows had definitely been one of his biggest accomplishments. His life had been dedicated to the sword - or rather, to the Keyblades - in his employ.

But he wasn't just a swordsman. No, he had plenty of tricks that had gotten him through countless close calls. There was the more boring stuff – being able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, read the innermost nature of one's heart with a cursory glance, conjuring doors of light whenever he pleased. But in the middle of a fight, what more often than not saved his ass was his magic.

He could shape his mana into protective barriers to repel harm, seal the most grievous of wounds with naught but a wave of his hands, and even bend gravity itself to his will with a single command. Sora's magic had been all but essential in his various escapades; because no matter what the universe might have thought, he was by no means an agile combatant who could avoid any injury thrown his way.

No, that had been Riku's style, darting about the battlefield and tearing apart the soldiers of darkness with lightning-quick blows from his winged keyblade.

Sure, Sora was fast – hell, he was faster than most in his time – but he never came close to that style of combat. When he was faced with a foe he didn't rely on overwhelming speed or subtle, graceful tactics. No, what he relied on was his sheer tenacity and unlimited supply of brute force.

Sora was a tank. He came in hard, dealing out heavy two-handed blows and absorbing any damage that he could mitigate later with magical potions or straight-up magic. He'd charge his foes again and again and again, and wouldn't stop until either he or his foe had been knocked down and forced to submit. When his sword wasn't enough, he'd use his magic to accomplish the same thing.

But there was one magic he could never forget, that was so ingrained into his memory that using it was more instinct that it was effort. The very first spell he'd ever learned.

So when Lancer opened his mouth to retort, Sora's curled fist exploded with a red and orange brilliance that lit up the night like a miniature sun. And before the other servant could even get out a single syllable, he drove that same fist straight into the earth beneath his feet and roared with all his might:

"WHAT I SEEK IS THE MORTAL FLAME!"

Mana flowed from his fingertips, weaving its way through the loamy soil as if it were dozens burrowing worms. They twisted, they turned, they surged forward all in the span of an instant. And when they reached their target, a stream of orange-red flames erupted from the earth that completely enveloped the blue-clad hero in a cocoon of scorching, unbearable heat. It streamed up from the earth like an erupting volcano, the flames twisting and turning in midair whilst swirling around Lancer's body all the while.

Moments later, Sora's hand was torn free of his master's lawn and the pillar of flame had vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. Beads of sweat stuck to his forehead – not from the exertion, but from the shear heat of the supernatural flames he'd brought into being.

Sora sighed, shaking clumps of dirt from the hand not currently holding his organs in, and staring at the figure standing amidst charred earth and the strands of smoke twirling up into the night sky. Lancer's arms were crossed in front of his face as if to protect it from the gout of fire… yet the only damage Sora could make out were a few singed strands of hair.

"Okay, that should have turned that pretty boy face of yours into something resembling a burnt pizza." Sora scowled and shook his free hand, extinguishing the flames that had taken a liking to his glove. "I'm calling bull. What, do you have magic resistance rank infinity or something?"

_I thought that was supposed to be the Saber's thing,_ Roxas commented, his voice eerily calm. Sora could only assume the blonde had shelved his previous anger to deal with the situation at hand. Which was good – god knows he'd need to help if that didn't do a thing to the heroic spirit.

"How the hell did you do that?" Lancer barked out, seemingly more annoyed than angry, and definitely more so than injured. "A weak, slow body, and weak magic that lets you make fire and shields. I don't know of any hero who can do that, fool."

Sora tutted and wagged a finger. "Don't question greatness." He paused, his finger drooping. "Wait, you're being serious about the 'weak and slow' part, aren't you?"

Incidentally he found himself struggling to keep a neutral face, so that his foe didn't realize just how hurt he was. Both emotionally and physically. Mostly the latter though.

"The only great thing about you I've seen so far is your mouth!" Lancer started forward, dragging the tip of his weapon along the ground and carving a shallow trench amongst the emerald blades of grass.

"Then why am I still alive? If I'm as weak as you say, you must be really bad at stabbing thing with that glorified toothpick of yours. You missed all my vital organs with that earlier attack!" Sora barked out a boastful laugh, resisting the urge to throw his hands on his hips and puff out his chest to emphasize his sheer manliness.

_Uhhh yeah, about that_, Roxas began, his hesitant tone catching his host's attention.

Sora winced as an involuntary cough racked his body, with it a small trickle of blood seeping out from the corner of his mouth. "Well almost all of them. Dammit, that was the part of my liver I use to drink with." Another cough, and a half-assed curse muttered under his breath. "That was my good kidney too."

"That's enough fun for one night, I think." Lancer was suddenly on top of him, the tip of his bloodied spear graving against the nape of his neck. "It's been fun, child."

Time seemed to slow down as the gravity of the situation came crashing down around him like a tsunami. He was too injured to move or swipe away the spirit's weapon. He was too drained to call upon his magic for a third time, and even if he had the willpower he hadn't the time to perform a spell before the final blow struck.

Sora gritted his teeth, bracing for the impact…

Only it never came.

A clash of steel shattered the silence, and Sora felt something sharp trace a thin line along his neck.

"So, you are still able to fight, Saber."

"Of course, what kind of hero would I be if a simple wound like this kept me from battle? I just had to ensure my master was safe from harm."

"Now, let's finish this Lancer."

"I think not. I've already fought two battle against swordsmen tonight. I feel no need to participate in a third battle of that nature.

"So you are escaping, then."

"Oh please, by all means feel free to pursue me. However, it looks like you have more significant matters to attend to than defeating me."

"What are you…"

"What, all this fuss over little ol' me?" Sora flopped back onto his backside.

"Before I leave, I wish to know something." The lancer placed a hand on his hip, staring down at Sora's prone form with something just shy of disgust. "Who are you, stranger?"

"Nobody really." Sora waved his free hand in the air as if brushing aside flies. "Well, technically I have a nobody, I guess. I'm not one myself."

"You're a strange one." Lancer snorted, and with a wave of his arm his weapon dissipated into so many sparks of blood-red light. "Have fun with these children, Saber."

And with a shimmering of the air Lancer vanished into nothingness, leaving only the destruction he had wrought as proof of his presence.

"Well, that was anticlimactic." Sora paused thoughtfully, his hand still pressed tight against his stomach. "You know, excluding the part where you got shanked. But overall, I'd give it a six out of ten."

_More like four out of ten. You couldn't even go five minutes without losing your lunch. Literally._

Roxas scoffed as Sora leapt into motion to protect his shattered and (literally) bloodied pride. 'I've been here for like ten minutes tops, I haven't had time to eat anything. It's not like that filet I had followed me through time and space and wedged itself in my lower intestinal track when we arrived here.'

_You don't know that for a fact._ Sora suddenly found himself tempted to stick a finger in his gut and start wiggling it around. Sure, it would hurt him like hell, but it would hurt the nobody just as much. Plus, the bastard wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

Then again, the idea of fingering his intestines was far less than appealing.

Sora found himself once again dragged out of a conversation with his nobody's ethereal voice – though this time, not by someone trying to run him through. "I thank you for helping to defend my master while I'm in this weakened state, stranger." Saber bowed her head slightly, just enough so that she could maintain eye contact with the black-clad warrior.

"Um, sure no problem." Sora blinked owlishly. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw a rapidly approaching presence; to his relief, however, it was only the boy who had summoned him.

Shirou seemingly ignored that awkwardness of the exchange between the two servants, who were currently sharing a questioning look. Either that, or he was too frazzled to notice the tension that one could have cut with a butter knife. "Are you two okay? I have bandages in the house, let me go get something."

"As much as I'm sure she appreciates you ripping off your shirt, I think we'll manage." If Saber had paid attention to Sora's comment, she was definitely going out of his way to ignore it. Or rather, she was more concerned with other matters than to jump at his jests.

"It's true, master, this injury is insignificant at best." The blonde covered the freshly-delivered would with her gauntlet-covered hand. "However, it will dampen my ability to combat potential foes effectively. It would beneficial if you were to resolve this injury now before addressing the matter at hand."

"Huh?" Shirou stared at her with wide eyes. Wide, unknowingly, bewildered eyes. It took everything in his being for Sora to resist rolling his eyes once more. After all, the kid was clearly a little overwhelmed by everything that had just transpired.

Still, he hadn't gone running off screaming for help at the top of his lungs, even after the two people who had protected him were injured. That took guts.

Or he was just really, really stupid. Sora prayed it wasn't the latter.

"Oh… I'm sorry, that kind of magic is way beyond my level. I'm still just a beginner."

"I see."

Sora did his best to stifle the millions of questions that leapt forth from the boy's resonance, then took another couple seconds to muffle the questions being asked by his nobody. "Well it shouldn't be that big a deal. You're the big bad Saber, or so you claim. You should be able to patch that up no problem, right?"

"I am incapable of magic. My status as a servant does grant me enhanced healing properties, but they still require valuable time that I cannot afford to waste." Saber stated in what Sora was suspecting to be her trademark tone; blunt and detached. After he'd leapt into the middle of things to help her out, he'd hoped she loosen up just a little bit. But her voice was still winter, and her gaze harder than ice.

"I do know what a servant is, you don't have to quote the beginner's manual at me."

Saber blinked, her stoic façade cast aside by her surprise. ""There's a manual?"

Sora parted the seal between his lips to respond, only to find himself interrupted before he could even start to teach her the basics of sarcasm. "Well I still have no idea what a servant is. Or what any of this is about!"

"Calm down pony boy, just give me a minute." Sora closed his eyes, turning his focus inward towards the core of his being. "I just want to make sure I don't spring another leak from my stomach."

He reached down, pushing past the pain and the questions bubbling away in his mind. Down past memories threatening to surface of their own accord, past the stress and uncertainty this situation was bringing to light.

There, at the center of his being. Where once had stood a radiance matched by only that of a dying star, there now sat only a little blue light. It flickered at his presence, like a dying candle amongst the emptiness and blackness within his soul. With a gentle touch he reached out and caressed it, drawing out the faintest wisp of slivery-white and taking it for himself.

Not a moment later that tiny wisp disappeared into nothing, leaving only a pleasant tingling sensation that reached out to every part of his being. From his head to his toes, forth a few short moments Sora was bathed in the miracle that was his magic.

Or rather, what was left of it.

"That was… amazing!" Shirou was the first to speak, wide-eyed and staring at the brown-haired man with an amazed expression. "How did you do that?" Sora blinked, suddenly finding himself question how his healing magic worked for the first time in years.

He honestly didn't think about it too much. It was like switching on a light bulb – while most knew how it worked, they would rarely think on the specifics every time they flicked that switch. While Sora was sure he could remember exactly how he stitched his body together, delving into the details would take… well, a hell of a long time.

He opted for the annotated explanation instead. "It's really not a big deal. Take a little magic, shove it into the hole, and watch the wound go bye-bye."

"My master is right." The so-called Saber was eying him as well, though she only outwardly displaying the faintest traces of her curiosity. As opposed to the boy, who Sora was concerned would start drooling at any moment. "I've never seen a healing magic that works so quickly on such a serious injury."

"Oh, I've had worse. And I didn't fix it all the way, I just patched it up enough so that my stomach doesn't spout a leak all over the kid's nice clean floors." Sora stopped his train of thought, panic flooding his system as he snapped his head towards the teenager. "Wait, you floors are clean, right?"

"Uh, yes?" Sora's shoulders slumped downward as he breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Good, I hate living in filth. Now, down to business." A bloodied hand ran through chocolate brown hair, pushing the matted locks out of his face and to the side. "So how about we get this out of the way and you tell the truth about who you are?" Sora pointed at the girl, his dropping an octave or two as his playful attitude seemingly evaporated into nothingness.

Saber took a step back as if the man's declaration was a shock, only to regain her footing a moment later. Her face was once again unreadable, save the slightest furrowing of her brow. "Who are you to speak to me as if I were some… some child!"

"I'm Sora."

"I…" Saber paused. If Sora didn't know any better, he would have sworn he saw smoke drifting from her ears as she tried to process what was happening. "… What?"

"That's my name." The man paused and thumped an open hand against his chest, as if to drive the point home. "Sora. That's who I am."

"I've yet to hear tale of a hero by that name." Saber merely scowled, and Sora suddenly found it almost impossibly difficult to resist rolling his eyes

"Believe me, I'd be inclined to do a little dance out of joy if you had."

Almost as if she could sense his barely-repressed rudeness, Saber crossed her arms across her chest and let loose a barely-noticeable scoff. Sora couldn't help but notice her jaw clench ever-so slightly in what he could only assume was some combination of frustration and impatience. "Somehow, I highly doubt that. You seem far from the type to keep to your word."

The brunette's eyes narrowed. "Woah, pardon me? You're going to attack my character, even after I tried to save your ass from that toothpick of destiny?"

Saber continued as if she hadn't heard Sora's indignant tone. "Your attempt to heal me does nothing to disregard the fact that you appeared unbidden when my master called out to me, and then demonstrated a level of skill capable of enduring a heroic spirit's assault. Both of those facts are nothing short of disconcerting."

This Sora did roll his eyes. "Remember that time I was helping you both out? It was literally less than five minutes ago." He frowned and drummed his fingers against his hip. "Do you regularly act hostile towards people who perform good deeds?"

"I don't know Saber, he seemed like he was really trying to help." Shirou piped up. Sora almost whirled around and decked him in shock, having totally forgot the boy was there due to his non-involvement in the current exchange.

"Yeah, what the kid said. He's got good taste in men." Sora nodded , then frowned. "Wait that came out wrong, let me try again."

"Master, with all due respect you have yet to understand the significance of the struggle you've become a part of. I feel it is best that you defer to my judgment for the time being." Once again, Sora found himself wondering how almost every girl he stumbled across inevitably ended up being stubborn as a mule. Here he was, risking his neck to save the boy and the so-called Saber, and he was getting nothing but grief from the latter!

"I really do think he wanted to help. Why else would he try to protect you from that guy's spear?" God, if he wasn't afraid of getting his hand chopped off by the girl, Sora would have high-fived the redhead in a heartbeat. He was being such a bro right now he almost couldn't handle it.

"Spoiler alert – it wasn't just because I have a thing about saving damsels in distress." Sora leaned over and whisper into the Shirou's ear, "though that's not saying I don't enjoy it. Plenty of perks."

_That's a goddamn lie if I've ever hear done before, _Roxas chuckled._Most the girls you knew needed rescuing from someone or something at first, and half of them needed the help the minute you met them._

'Oh come on, that's not true. The girls I knew were badass!'

_Let's see. There was Kairi, of course. Though she got better later on when she figured out how to use that keyblade of hers like an actual weapon, instead of a glorified baseball bat._

'Oh please, she could have kicked my ass after those first few months of training. You just talk her down because you were sweet on her blonde-haired alter-ego.'

Roxas growled, and his presence darkened for a moment or two. _Other than her, off the top of my head we've got… Alice, Belle, Aqua, Jasmine the Arabian beauty, my sweet, lovely Namine, the good kind of fishy-lady Ariel, any of the Princesses of Heart I forgot to mention, that Elizabeth chick, Meg, the hot researcher turned jungle lady, Esmerelda … and hell, that was almost every girl you met in those first two years._

'That's bull, what about Yuffie? Aerith? Hell, Mulan was a badass incarnate!' Sora snapped back. Seriously, some of the best fighters he knew were girls! And even the ones he'd rescued at first turned into terrifying forces of nature later on, especially when the war kicked into high gear.

Let it be known, there were few things Sora feared more than a pissed-off Princess of Heart.

_Give me a few hours and I can get to all the rest. _Roxas went on as if he hadn't even heard his host's objection._I didn't even get to the place's we visited after we locked up Kingdom Hearts. _Sora suddenly found himself with a perfectly clear image of Roxas leaning over and wiggling his eyebrows at him. _Remember that Vanille girl?_

Oh, he remembered her all too well. And what had happened when she met Kairi and had suggested a 'friendly' sparring match to test their strength. This had been months before the Keyblade Master and Princess of Heart had gotten together.

Said sparring match was subsequently the reason Sora couldn't eat anything with vanilla in it without having borderline PSTD-esque flashbacks.

'Okay fine, you've made your point.' Sora rolled his eyes at the smugness radiating from Roxas's presence, which illuminated his mind like a miniature sun. A sun that Sora wished he could punch oh-so badly without giving himself a black eye and a wicked headache.

"Other than Lancer, I do not know who the heroic spirits involved in this battle are." Saber had continued on talking, unaware of the argument passing through Sora's mind. Which in retrospect was a good thing; Sora doubted that telling this badass warrior princess-type girl he had voices in his head would have gone over well.

"That leaves five servants that currently unaccounted for… which means five different enemies you could actually be." Sora's eyes widened as realization hit him; she was talking to him.

She had been talking about him the entire time he was talking to himself. Sora found himself praying to whatever passed for a god in this world that he hadn't missed anything too important during his brief jaunt to his inner world.

"For all I know you could be Caster," she nodded towards the charred glove, and pointed to where not moments ago he had sported a particularly nasty puncture wound.

Sora wondered if she had been paying attention to the fight where he'd broken out his magic, because if he was the Caster… he'd seriously gotten the short end of the stick. The two spells he'd broken out in the middle of the fight had been about as effective as trying to chop down a tree with a clump of wet tissue paper.

"Or maybe even Assassin, attempting to secure our trust only to break it at a later date." Saber finished.

Sora froze in response to that particular accusation and directed a hard, disbelieving look towards the girl.

He almost couldn't believe it'd taken him to long to notice she'd placed herself between him and Shirou, and that her hands were reaching at her side to pull forth a weapon from thin air.

Which he'd learned from earlier that she totally could if she wanted to.

"What, Assassin? Why would you…." Sora sighed forlornly, grabbing at his collar with both hands and pulling it upwards. "It's the coat, isn't it? I knew black was a bad choice."

Stupid Organization and their fashion choice making him look both incredibly awesome and sketchy as hell at the same time.

"But he helped you, didn't he? He made that shield-thing to try and block that spear." Shirou hesitantly interjected. If the situation wasn't already spinning out of control, Sora would have shot him a thankful grin.

"And he let the shield fall so that I was injured," Saber finished solemnly, not taking her gaze off Sora to even glance at his master.

"Hey, I wasn't seeing you do much to stop it. You just let me do all the hard work while you sat back and enjoyed the light show." He snorted and raised an eyebrow skeptically. "And you got a sweet piercing out of the deal. What did I get? A bunch of insults, and my dinner forcibly removed from my lower intestine."

The smart thing to do would have been to play it safe and politely navigate through the situation. But Sora had never been particularly well known for his tact.

Saber narrowed her eyes, spreading her feet apart into a stance ready to spring forward at a moment's notice. "Even now he speaks in circles instead of stating his purpose in plain terms. No self-respecting heroic spirit would choose to engage in such frivolities at a time like this."

"Maybe I just have a distinct lack of self-respect. I never did like authority very much."

"It isn't possible for a master to summon two servants simultaneously." Saber labored on through gritted teeth. "It contradicts every rule set forth by the Holy Grail itself!"

She pointed at the teenager's hand, and the dark-red symbols carved into the flesh. "He bears _my_ command seals, so-called hero. Should he wish it, he could order me to strike you down before you even had a chance to blink."

Sora grimaced. Saying that this was going poorly would be the understatement of his century. While he was questioning how she was so sure that those command seals belonged to her, he dared not voice his curiosity aloud. Not when he couldn't be absolutely certain she was wrong; although granted, he wasn't sure of anything at the moment.

"So what, I'm a liar liar pants on fire?" The man took a step back, shifting his weight onto the balls of his feet in preparation for her retaliation. Saber saw right through his actions, taking yet another step to the side and completely obscuring an objecting Shirou from his line of sight.

"No, you seem more the type who hides his true intentions behind false words and extravagant mannerisms."

He shrugged his shoulders and offered the woman a quick grin. "I can't help it if I was born funny. Just like you can't help the fact you were born with a stick up your ass."

"That isn't helping things! No one else is going to try and kill each other here tonight." Shirou attempted to shove his way around Saber, only to find an armored hand effortlessly pushing him back. He grunted with effort as he tried to push around her, but it was to no avail.

"Who said I was trying to help things?" The older male smirked. "If I piss her off enough I'm sure she'll let slip what she's really doing here."

Shirou was turning a lovely shade of red at an alarmingly quick rate, as he continued to try and worm around Saber's presence. Sora had to give the kid props; he was sure as hell stubborn, even though he hadn't managed to move more than an inch despite his wild flailing. "Are you forgetting that she saved me from that guy too? She was out there first!"

"You don't even know what's happening here little boy, just let mommy and daddy scream it out."

"You would be wise to watch your tone when addressing my master, lest you wish our blades to do the talking." Saber growled out, the threat dropping heavy from her tongue.

"Oh?" Against his better judgment Sora could feel his muscle beginning to tense, and the familiar twinge of adrenaline blossoming from his stomach and coursing through his body like wildfire. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize that the 'Saber' who got her ass handed to her had the right to pass judgment on me."

"That was an unavoidable strike! The finishing blow from Lancer's noble phantasm! And I was far from defeated. I would have gladly continued fighting had my Master's safety not been compromised." The woman's face was tinged bright red as she leapt to her defense. In any other circumstances Sora might have found her reaction cute, maybe even adorable.

Of course, given the current scenario, he felt none of these things.

"All I hear is 'blah blah blah, excuses excuses excuses.' I say you'd best back down and stop trying to steal my thunder. I'm his servant. You're just some second-rate hack, a mistake dredged up from across dimensions and shoved into a magical skin suit.

"I said that's enough!" Shirou called out once more, and once more the two legendary figures before him all but ignored his presence.

"You truly think so? Here you are, barely able to give Lancer a fight worthy of a warm-up sparring match, and you have the gall to question my authenticity?" It didn't take a genius to realize that Sora was treading on exceptionally thing ground. Even Shirou noticed that the blonde had taken a step forward, her armor-clad fingers scraped together as the tightened around some invisible tool of destruction.

"I'll question whatever I want! I'm the king, goddammit!" Sora roared back and took his own step forward. He reached down and pulled his sword from the earth, pointing its tip directly at the blonde's breastplate.

"I can't possibly believe someone as brazenly shameless as you could have possibly been a king." Saber pulled at the very wind itself, pointing an invisible blade at Sora's unarmored chest across the short distance between them.

No more words. No more empty truths and impossible lies. For these two, both man and woman knew only one thing; a storm was coming. A storm of flashing steel and raining blood, that would rage on until only one was left standing.

Neither was aware of anything but each other. Sora could have counted every droplet of sweat clinging to the 'Saber's' fair-skinned forehead, but the desperate cries of the boy behind her fell on deaf ears. Saber could see the slightest twitch of every muscle in Sora's body even underneath his long jacket, but the efforts of her master to push her aside didn't even register in her mind.

Sora grinned and shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, tensing him legs and preparing to launch forward with all his might.

Only fate had a different idea in mind for the evening's plans.

"Master, another servant has arrived." Saber straightened up from her fighting stance, invisible weapon held loose by her side. Sora resisted the urge to let his jaw hang slack at the sudden change of atmosphere. Seriously, moments ago they had been about to engage in a battle that would have probably turned the boy's house into a freaking war zone.

And now here she was, acting dignified and noble as if she hadn't been a step away from foaming at the moment not five seconds earlier.

"Oh boy, company! I hope they brought breadsticks. I haven't had good breadsticks in years."

Once again ignoring the brunet's commentary, Saber took a step backwards and made a short bow in Shirou's direction. "Please stay here, Master. I'll take care of this new threat and return to you post-haste to resolve this dilemma."

Shirou nodded weakly, and the two males watched the girl whirl about towards the street with her invisible blade still in hand.

"Wait, how did you sense people coming? Can you use the force or something? Wait, don't tell me." Sora called after the blonde's rapidly retreating form. With a sigh he seemingly vanished from view, reappearing next to Shirou with an arm draped around the startled boy's shoulders, "Okay master, quiz time. Does one of her skills involve using the force? Please say yes."

Shirou just stared at Sora, eyes wide and flabbergasted. The man groaned, kneading the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefingers.

"The force? Oh come on, I know you people have… what did we decide to name it…" Sora snapped his fingers in triumph, "That's right! Star Wars! You know, spaceships, laser swords, vaguely defined super powers, and countless subpar video games."

"Of course I've heard of Star Wars," Shirou grumbled, glancing uncomfortably at the gloved hand perched atop his shoulder. "I meant what do you mean by one of her skills?"

"Well a skill is generally defined as the ability to perform a task, often with a certain level of expertise or minimal competence." Sora deadpanned, rapping his knuckles against his young charge's head a few times to drive the point home. Shirou scowled and pushed his arm away, taking a step back form the black-clothed newcomer.

"How am I supposed to know what she's good at?"

Sora grunted as a hint of exasperation seeping into his tone. "You can use magic since you summoned me." He cast a thoughtful glace to the side. "And maybe her too, I'm still not convinced about that."

Sora shook his head, "Anyway, you Masters are supposed to be able to figure out what Servants are like just by looking at them, or so I'm told. Just shove some magic into your eyes and see what happens, I guess." Sora shrugged halfheartedly; he wasn't abundantly familiar with modern magical practices. There were so many different way practitioners could conjure and manipulate mana, he'd stopped paying attention years ago. Most of them used elaborate runes and incantations; as far as Sora was aware, he was the only one left who followed the 'spit out magic and blow stuff up' approach in its purest, simplest form.

Granted, if that were the case, jamming mana into his eyes would end with Shirou sporting two new bloody holes in his head. Hopefully he wouldn't actually try that.

"I didn't do anything," Shirou spoke up, his lips turned downward into some sort of frustrated frown. "One second that Lancer guy was about to stab me in the chest all over again, and the next the three of you were tearing up half the neighborhood."

"Don't be such a drama queen, it's just a couple patches of crabgrass." Sora followed the redhead's meaningful gaze towards a large, Lancer-shaped hole emblazoned in the back of his home. "Okay, there's that too. Point to you."

"Shouldn't we go see what's happening with her?" the younger of the two men furrowed his brow, glancing over to the section of wall the blonde had leapt over not moments ago. "What if that Lancer guy came back to finish he job?"

"Worry about the pretty lady later, Shirou," Sora waved a hand as if to push aside the matter entirely. "For now, just answer my question. What did you do to bring me here?" He paused thoughtfully. "Well, to bring _us_ here. Let's assume she isn't crazy and full of it for now."

Shirou stared Sora.

Sora stared Shirou.

Moments passed, and a faint breeze rolled across the yard, toying with what little of Sora's hair wasn't weighed down by sweat and dirt.

Under different circumstances, some lonely schoolgirl might have written a friend fiction about the two of them suddenly lunging at each other and stripping off their clothes.

Finally, after a few seconds that felt like hours, Shirou spoke. "I don't know how you two got here."

Sora kept staring. "You don't know," he echoed back with a heavy voice.

It wasn't a question; it was a statement.

"What do you mean you don't freaking know?" Sora spat out. He was literally trembling in his attempts to keep his frustration and anger in check. "Summoning isn't even that damn hard!" I could even do that when I was your age! And the only things I knew how to do involved turning big monsters in smears on the wall!"

"Hey, I never learned-" Sora took a step forward and shook a finger a hair's breadth away from the boy's nose, cutting off his retort.

"Do you know how much finesse you need to light a four-story tell giant on fire? Literally none! And I still figured out how to do summons without royally screwing up!"

Shirou's brow furrowed as he pushed Sora's hand out of his face, as if to keep respond to the tirade spilling forth. Sora, however, merely shoved his blood-soaled glove over the redhead's mouth and continued on.

"Hell, if she is your servant as she claims it should be all the easier. Just reach out to her through the connection formed by your contract and wiggle around inside of her to get a feel for things."

Sora's tirade came screeching to a halt as he realized what had just passed through his lips. Shirou had even stopped trying to remove the hand from his mouth and started at the older man with eyes wide.

"Holy crap, what did I just say." Sora let his hand drop back down to his side as the other reached up and tugged at the brown spikes crowning his head. "I don't say stuff like that, like ever."

_Well apparently you do now. _The nobody's presence lit up, imposing Sora with an emotion he could only assume was his other half's curiosity. And the usual smugness he radiated whenever Sora pulled a Goofy._Actually, you've been a little snarky ever since you popped up here. Did the trip over make you grouchy or something?_

"Shut it Roxas, I'm trying to save face with an impressionable adolescent mind, and… he's gone." Sora sighed, watching his master disappear around a corner to a path he could only assume led to the street, and the blonde warrior princess. "Okay fine, run off in the middle of my rant, I'm not bitter."

He'd just have to pick up where he left off later in the evening. After reminding his young charge about how one should respect their elders. Even if said elder only looked four of five years older than you.

_That's what you get for talking to yourself all the time._

Sora sighed. That was enough smugness for one day.

'Roxas, heel.' The somebody of the pair growled and, without any warning, slammed a fist into the side of his head. He staggered to the side and fell to one knee, a splitting headache almost instantaneously accompanied by the bodiless entity's howls of pain.

_YO WATCH IT_, came the nobody's snarling response. _You need these brain cells more than I do._ Sora muttered a string of half-finished obscenities under his breath. That had hurt. A lot. Not as much as getting stabbed in the gut, but head injuries were a particular nuisance he preferred to avoid whenever possible.

He had a job to do, after all, and he needed to be able to focus without his personal riff track supplier making snarky comments.

The first job would be easy; all he had to do was catch up with Shirou and keep his ass on the shortest leash possible, so that he didn't go running off and getting his heart carved out like an apple core.

The second job was threatening to be significantly more difficult; sorting out what the situation was with him and the Saber, and how they both related to Shirou.

The third job, however, was what Sora was most concerned about; figuring out why he was so weak. Because if his instincts were right and he'd been summoned without of one of the seven class roles… well, life would get incredibly complicated incredibly quickly.

Still, the blessed silence now echoing all throughout the confines of his mind was worth that splitting headache.

Albeit barely.

* * *

><p>Sora hopped atop the short wall surrounding the boy's yard and squatted. Form atop his perch he eyed the situation below.<p>

A girl – a pretty high school girl, at that – stood behind a red-clad warrior holding two short, curved blades aloft. T

The so-called Saber stood no more than arm's length away from them, seemingly frozen in place with her invisible weapon hefted overhead.

Shirou stood a ways behind the blonde, both hands outstretched with desperation etched across his battered features.

Only, now that Sora had a good look at him, something didn't right. Atop his left hand were intricate, blood-red markings; his command seals, tokens of power that would allow him to completely bend Sora to his will. But there were only two there. He should have had three.

Last he checked, Sora hadn't been compelled to do anything out of the ordinary. If anything, from the horrifyingly angry aura the girl was giving off _she_ had been the one forced to obey the whim of a command seal.

So Sora's attention was more drawn to the boy's right hand, where three similar markings were carved into the pale flesh.

Two pairs of markings.

Two sets of command seals.

Sora was also suddenly aware that the crowd below was no longer conversing, but instead staring at him as if he'd grown a second head.

He blinked, realizing that the gravity of the situation unfurling was entirely too much for him to deal with at the moment. So Sora did what he did best when stuck in a situation he knew next to nothing about – he spoke.

"Oh. Well… gee, this is awkward now. Is it awkward? Because it feels really awkward."

Sora could almost feel Roxas's frustrated sigh.


End file.
